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AppreciationApril 7, 2016

Weird: The Paul Henry show is actually great

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A year ago today, New Zealand’s most idiosyncratic broadcaster returned to our televisions (and airwaves) with his self-titled show. Tim Murphy explains how he became a reluctant fan.

I didn’t expect to like the Paul Henry show.  

I didn’t much like the idea of Paul Henry. Not just because of the Dikshit puerility and Governor-General offence. Just in general. And because the morning radio host I enjoyed most, Marcus Lush, had been pushed aside to make way for a Big Swinging Dick of New Zealand media.

I don’t think we’ve ever met. I remember him as a kind-of foreign correspondent for Radio Live or its precursor Radio Pacific, as a National Party candidate and then more lately on those infamous trans-Tasman morning and late night TV shows.

Paul Henry, 2007 (Photo by Hannah Peters/Getty Images)
Paul Henry, 2007 (Photo by Hannah Peters/Getty Images)

The fact he had once, in some word-association exercise, replied to the prompt “Herald” by saying “arseholes” had absolutely nothing to do with my wariness and weariness at his big MediaWorks gig when it launched a year ago.

Everyone can have their blind spots. Henry was one of mine. All kinds of smart people who I respect rated him and they were, of course, right.

So I listened from April last year because of habit – it had long been Morning Report or Radio Live in the morning – and because of Hilary Barry. When I watched, the million dollar studio, sports presenter Jim Kayes, a “social media bunker”, a free range studio of moving people and parts, and plenty of contemporary music gave the show real points of difference.  

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There were those 1950s microphones. And people sitting around a table rather than in contrived comfort on sofas. Who sits on sofas in the mornings to share breakfast and chat?

Most of all there was the host. On air, online, on point. Henry started well and got better. He knows stuff. He doesn’t just scan the net and talk fast, as can happen elsewhere. Is he a swot or a sponge? I don’t know. But when the going gets serious, he can go there.

In the past month or so, two stories stand out: the focus on the fate of terminally ill melanoma patients and the Keytruda drug, and on Fonterra’s late-paying of its suppliers. Henry’s take-no-prisoners interview with the Fonterra chief financial officer was agenda-setting beyond the breakfast show template.

It is a big show to pull off – three hours on three platforms Monday to Friday. By contrast John Campbell’s fine Checkpoint team is assembling one and a half non-commercial hours daily in its attempt at radio with pictures. So there have to be fixed points, regular devices and guest slots that mark out the hours.

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But Paul Henry manages not to appear same-ish. Even the daily panels, ubiquitous in broadcast media, have real character and people who prick the great man’s aura. The segments contain a weird mix of Henry self-praise, self-effacement, and mocking or applauding of panellists.

Henry is transparent about his political tinge. How could you not be?  So in discussing Kiwibank on Monday he offered: “We understand why you can’t fix interest rates. The Greens and Labour don’t.”

Or to Workplace Relations and Safety Minister Michael Woodhouse on new health and safety rules, allegedly making schools nervous about kids using playgrounds: “Michael, good morning. I want to tell you right up front where I stand on this. I’m on your side. But my support is paper thin and it depends very, very much on how you answer these following questions. Are we clear? The pressure is on…”

The news menu can stretch to what looks dull on the surface: A mineral exploration conference; this week’s charity or do-gooder cause. Yet Henry’s agility and pace can get something out of nothing.

Surprisingly, he’s less dexterous with some of the lightweight material. While he’s great on devices like lists, countdowns and the daily 9-in-10 Q & A competitions which break up the menu, he’s a fish out of water on sports. And a bit busy to watch things? He had a Game of Thrones star on and tried to make a virtue of never having seen the blockbuster show. I’m not sure how that went for him, really, but he did enjoy the admission from Alfie Allen that his Theon Greyjoy character’s “only point of authority was in the bedroom”.


There’s still lots of puerility. A list of unfortunate names: “Richard Head – what were the parents thinking?”, “Wayne King”… and this week the silliness that made the Herald about Hilary’s breasts and Henry’s determination to get his observations off his chest. (He highlighted the whole brouhaha on Tuesday’s show, sneering at the “shabby little tabloid” which ran the story).

For much of the time, like a dog fitted with one of those electric shock collars that make them look away when they see a cat, Henry seems to veer away from real offence. But wait long enough and his instincts will prevail, despite the pain.

Hilary Barry, unplugged, is still the best newsreader around. She lifted Marcus and she lifts Paul, too. Jim Kayes, the check-shirted jock to Henry’s viognier-drinking celebrity, is a bonus. Wry, real.

All of which is good. But the high-paid superstar is still reaching an audience well behind his TV and radio rivals. And it IS still “commercial” broadcasting.  

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Over on TV One, the well-resourced Breakfast show is a slick, if conventional, morning powerhouse.  

Even if he were to catch it, shouldn’t Henry be fighting in a heavier weight division, like 7pm? Maybe not. Radio is where the money is for MediaWorks and success there in the morning has existential benefits.

I’ve always been sceptical of those age bands broadcasters hold up as successes when total audiences can’t match their rivals. It’s like newspapers talking combined digital and print audiences when the papers’ readerships ebb away.

However, the TV ratings reveal Paul Henry is gaining traction in its MediaWorks’-targetted 25 to 54 demographic. One day in February it beat TV One’s Breakfast in that group – the first time ever! – and it has narrowed the gap sporadically and progressively since late last year.

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In the past month, a random selection of 7am to 8am slots have Paul Henry around a rating of 1.7 to 2.2 to Breakfast’s 2.2 to 2.9 in Nielsen’s ratings. That compares with May last year, a month in, when Paul Henry had 0.7 to Breakfast’s 2.something. The audiences aren’t huge, probably between 35,000 and 50,000. Henry nudges ahead a few times after 8am. On Monday April 4, between 7 and 8am, Henry recorded an audience of 3.0 to Breakfast‘s 3.1, with just 2000 viewers in it.

In radio, while the Ghost-of-Paul-Holmes-Show that is Hosking on ZB still monsters the field, Paul Henry edged up in Auckland and came from nowhere to a nearly 8 point share in Wellington in the last survey.

In a way, too much success might spoil this underdog. Part of its appeal is in its urgency and nothing-to-lose ambition. Henry is no doubt a small doses kind of guy. He keeps foretelling his own demise. “At some point, after I retire, which will not be that long’, he said the other week. And, this week, on the prospect of running to get fit: ‘Twelve weeks! It’s probably longer than I have left on the planet.”

I’ve been boring fellow media people for months with my theory that the three best new things to happen to New Zealand media in the past year have been: this site, The Spinoff*; the reinvigoration of Radio New Zealand; and Paul Henry.  

I didn’t want to like Henry’s show but – with its mix of the intelligent, the daring and the lols – it gets you.

Give it a go. Just keep Morning Report and your TV remote at hand if you need a bit of orthodoxy and a bit less of the tits and dicks.

*The Spinoff would like to clarify that it did not order ‘Tim Murphy’ to write this. His statement that ‘The Spinoff is good’ is his own view, and in no way reflects the position of The Spinoff.

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The Grosse Pointe cast (Photo: Kwaku Alston/Warner Bros.)
The Grosse Pointe cast (Photo: Kwaku Alston/Warner Bros.)

Pop CultureJanuary 27, 2016

How Grosse Pointe and Popular brought teen satire to television

The Grosse Pointe cast (Photo: Kwaku Alston/Warner Bros.)
The Grosse Pointe cast (Photo: Kwaku Alston/Warner Bros.)

From Beverly Hills 90210 and Sex and the City to American Horror Story and Glee, showrunners Darren Star and Ryan Murphy are behind some of the last quarter-century’s most fun television. As Murphy’s The People vs OJ Simpson hits screens and Star’s Younger returns for its second season, Laura Vincent looks back at two of their less-remembered teen shows.

The year 2000 was a strange time. There were a lot of songs in the charts about what year it was. Text messaging was just becoming mainstream. Around 75% of today’s pop stars were yet to be born. I had a crush on the lead singer of the Offspring and longed to win an inflatable South Park couch from a Dolly magazine competition. It was also the crest on a highly fertile wave of late 90s media geared towards teens. Dawson’s Creek, 10 Things I Hate About You, She’s All That, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, American Pie, Cruel Intentions – it goes on.

The Grosse Pointe cast (Photo: Kwaku Alston/Warner Bros.)
The Grosse Pointe cast (Photo: Kwaku Alston/Warner Bros.)

There was no better time for two satirical teen shows to debut on television. From Darren Star, creator of Beverly Hills 90210, came Grosse Pointe – based liberally and often rather scathingly on none other than Beverly Hills 90210. Write what you know, I guess. It followed behind the scenes drama from the titular show-within-a-show, thus creating layer upon layer of parody. From a pre-Glee/American Horror Story Ryan Murphy we got Popular, a high school drama based around the haves and have-nots and how they reluctantly intersected. Popular is full of Murphy’s signature mix of drama with heightened reality, and bizarre characters existing in utter normalcy – all elements that would later punctuate (and then completely bludgeon) Glee.

Neither of these shows was terribly successful – Grosse Pointe only lasted 17 episodes, while Popular ended suddenly after two seasons, with no real finale. But somehow they made it to New Zealand, and I managed to watch and love them both, despite the of-the-time barriers – like the fact that, maddeningly, in 2000 your actual TV was the only place you could see TV. Not to mention the parental authority over both the remote and one’s schedule. In fact I haven’t met that many people who know about either show. But they’re both very easily available on YouTube (or elsewhere) and so I invite you to come with me for a brief revisit of each show’s pilot episode.

Grosse Pointe Pilot

Characters and exposition: A “previously, on” clip from the show-within-a-show starts us off, but it soon becomes clear that this is the least important bit of Grosse Pointe, and that the onscreen angst is nothing compared to the soap opera of trying to get by behind the scenes. It’s pointedly clear that desperately insecure Marcy is a thinly-veiled parody of Tori Spelling. Her character has been voted least-sexy cheerleader on TV, she repeats mantras to herself about how people are pleased when she walks into a room, and she is manipulated like silly putty by the conniving Shannon Doherty avatar Hunter. They don’t connive like they used to, I tell ya.

The pilot centres on bubbly blonde new girl Courtney, and how her presence throws everyone into chaos that she is blithely unaware of. Hunter channels rivalry-induced rage into playing with Marcy’s insecurities. The ludicrously stupid and vain Jonny – Marcy’s unrequited crush – becomes blatantly attracted to Courtney, meanwhile the rapidly aging Quentin is caught short- bald in fact – without his toupee. Hilarity and tension ensues and it’s very silly, but worth sticking with.

Look out for: Amusing era-specific fashion in the way of elaborately trinketed hair, boob tubes with triangular hems, and embellished, flared capri pants. Later episodes would feature of-the-moment guest stars like Sarah Michelle Gellar, and, in a delicious coincidence, Leslie Bibb and Carly Pope from Popular acting as themselves.

Best lines: It’s clear that Darren Starr is having a lot of fun sending up his prior work. The actors are all so hilariously self-obsessed – “Now’s not a good time!” hisses Hunter at the ‘Make a Dream’ kid with leukemia wants to meet them on a set visit; an affably baffled Jonny is all “man, I’ve got to start reading the script” when Courtney introduces herself as a new character; and the wardrobe person disinterestedly replies “we don’t pay attention to the seasons” when Courtney asks whether jean shorts and a crop top would be appropriate for her character to wear in a Michigan winter.

My favourite line of the episode belongs to Jonny though, and it’s one that I pray Starr heard from someone IRL – when he lifts up his shirt and says “look at how golden and downy these hairs are around my navel!”

Popular Pilot

Characters and exposition: This show can be encapsulated by one particular scene where unpopular Sam McPherson (Carly Pope) and high school goddess Brooke McQueen (Leslie Bibb) are staring at each other in the cafeteria, each having an identical conversation with their friends about how they feel sorry for the other girl, as she’s trying so hard and is trapped in her social position. I guess we’re supposed to be generally pulling for Sam, but her righteousness and self-absorption makes it hard. Meanwhile Brooke has secretly struggled with body image and eating disorders her whole life. The unpopular girl wants to be noticed! The popular girl has hidden depth! Will they ever begrudgingly accept each other?

Leslie Bibb and Carly Pope in Popular.
Leslie Bibb and Carly Pope in Popular.

Look out for: Classic Ryan Murphy moves – the arch dialogue, the sprinkling of monumentally bizarre characters, the internal monologues, and the fantasy sequences, like when the students in the hall turn into a glazed-eyed mooing mob in Sam’s eyes after she claims that “they all dress alike, look alike, they’re terrified of having an opinion…they’re like cattle.” Other highlights of the show include Chad “brother-of-Rob” Lowe as a hip young teacher, and Diana Delano as the nonsensical yet intimidatingly no-nonsense science teacher Ms Glass, clearly a proto-Sue Sylvester.

Best Lines: Sam wants to get her nose pierced because “it’s a true individualistic statement”. Tammy Lynn Michaels is charming as the icy, cunning Nicole, who tells Leslie Bibb’s Brooke, “I am so worshipping your Gwynethness” , which is a reference that has aged surprisingly well. My personal favourite though is when Chad Lowe’s ostensibly sexy teacher character tells Sam he got his ear pierced after “one too many beers at a Limp Bizkit concert over summer”. If nothing else, they can bond over their truly individualistic perforations.


Craving more biting 2000s teen charm? Click below to watch Dawson’s Creek and Buffy on Lightbox today

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